


I Won't Believe in Songs (Unless They're Sung by You)

by MadameBaggio



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV), King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)
Genre: Arthur is a little shit, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, Sansa belongs to Vortigern, Sansa goes to Camelot, Slow Build, Slow Burn, but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-07-05 06:51:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15858447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameBaggio/pseuds/MadameBaggio
Summary: Sansa Stark was sent to England as a present to King Vortigern Pendragon. She left a cage for another one.She spent two years locked in a castle, watching life passing her by, feeling frozen inside.Until the spark of the revolution warmed her up again.Arthur Pendragon didn't plan on becoming a symbol of hope and freedom, but it was fate. He also didn't plan on meeting Sansa. But he did.He can't risk the revolution for her.But sometimes he wishes he could.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Can I stop? I wish I could, but the voices in my head have such amazing ideas! XD
> 
> This one actually started as a tumblr thing, and it got a life of its own, so I stopped fighting it.
> 
> I'm using some parts of the movie, but not all of them. I'll guide you through it, don't worry.
> 
> English isn't my native language and this wasn't beta-read, so let me know if there're too many mistakes.

Sansa Stark didn’t expect good things anymore; not from King’s Landing, not from Joffrey. After such a long time in the Capital, she’d learned to always expect the worst.

 

She’d hoped before; when Robb was still alive and marching towards the city, when her mother was coming for her. She didn’t hope anymore.

 

Now she stayed in her rooms and pretended to pray so people would leave her alone. She still had Shae around, and Margaery was kind to her, but… She was a prisoner and she’d remain one for… She was afraid to think of it, but most of the time she was sure she’d stay there until the day she died.

 

_A little dove, forever in a cage._

 

It never failed to scare her how often Cersei’s voice rang in her head.

 

However, that morning she was summoned to the throne room. A more morbid part of her wondered what Joffrey could possibly want from her. Robb was dead, so he couldn’t punish her for her brother’s successes anymore.

 

Maybe she should be worried, but at this point… What else could he take from here? Even the beatings -their pain and humiliation -had started to blur together in a horrifying kaleidoscope.

 

Then again… Perhaps she shouldn’t doubt his cruelty -or his creativity.

 

Two of the Kingsguard took her there, as they always did. She wondered if they thought she was going to run or try to hide, and that was why they escorted her all the time. Or maybe Joffrey just wanted to remind her she had no choice.

 

The doors opened and Sansa noticed, as she entered, that the room was full of spectators, which could possibly mean he was about to humiliate her and wanted a crowd.

 

Her stomach tightened in apprehension.

 

“Ah, my Lady. It’s always a pleasure to see you.” Joffrey smirked as soon as he saw her.

 

Cersei was there, standing by her son’s side, her beautiful face perpetually marred by the bitter look in her eyes. Tywin was also there, keeping close to the King as his Hand; he didn’t look exactly pleased by whatever was happening, and that -more than anything else -worried Sansa. Tywin was one of the select few that could curb some of Joffrey’s most furious outbursts. But if the wasn’t happy…

 

That was when she saw them: the group of outsiders. She couldn’t recognize their banners, so they couldn’t even be from Westeros, but she hadn’t even heard of visitors in King’s Landing. And they were all looking at her.

 

She gave the King a perfect bow. “Your Grace, it’s always an honor.”

 

Joffrey snickered. She kept her position, eyes on the ground.  “I have great news for you today, My Lady.” He told her gleefully.

 

“What is it, My Grace?” She inquired politely, finally straightening up again.

 

He indicated the man in front of the group. “The Earl of Mercia here comes from England.” Joffrey informed her. “In name of his King Vortigern.”

 

Sansa tried her best to hide her surprise. She’d heard of England -logically, she was an educated young lady -but it was the same way she’d heard of Essos: as a faraway land that hardly made a difference in their lives.

 

Apparently, it wasn’t the case anymore.

 

Sansa gave the man a polite nod. “I hope your visit has been pleasant, my Lord.”

 

Mercia opened a smirk. “She’ll do.” He threw at Joffrey, completely ignoring her.

 

Sansa felt her blood becoming ice in her veins.

 

“You see, My Lady, you’ll finally be useful to the Crown again.” Joffrey proclaimed, coming down the steps towards her. “You’ll be sent to England to serve King Vortigern, to love him as you love me…” He mocked, stepping closer. “Will you make your King proud?”

 

Sansa felt her throat closing up. She knew little of this country and even less of its King. He could be a monster, worse than Joffrey.

 

Or she could be free.

 

_Why are you acting like you have a choice, little dove?_

 

Cersei’s voice in her head shook her awake. “I’ll do whatever my King commands.” She finally answered.

 

Joffrey leaned in her direction, so he could whisper on her ear. “King Vortigern is a cruel man that murdered his brother and his family for the throne. And I’m giving you to him. You can be his whore, his servant… I don’t care. You’re going to be his property; he can do as he wishes to you.”

 

Sansa took a deep breath, before replying softly, “I’m only here to serve you.”

 

_Don’t break. Please, don’t break. Not in front of him._

 

“Oh, I shall miss you, Sansa.” He mocked once more.

 

She prayed to all the Gods she didn’t even believe in anymore, that she’d never think the same about him.

 

***

 

The Earl of Mercia didn’t want to delay his return to England. Less than a week after she was given to his king, Mercia put Sansa on a ship.

 

The preparation for the trip itself was a bit hurried. She hardly had any belongings left, and the Lannisters provided her with only the absolute necessary to pass as a lady; her dresses were always kept until they were too tight, and her shoes only replaced when they desperately needed to be.  However, it quickly became clear that King Vortigern was waiting for a lady, so she was -almost magically -provided with new dresses and even a few simple pieces of jewelry -though she suspected most of them were old trinkets that Cersei and Myrcella didn’t care for anymore.

 

There were no effusive goodbyes, not that she was expecting them. Joffrey was there with Margaery by his side, and he made a remark about her still loving him even being far away.

 

Margaery gave her a hug and a sad smile, and passed her a small present, that only hours later Sansa opened: a rose pressed between glass and a simple and yet beautiful pendant.

 

The last person to talk to Sansa was Cersei.

 

“Goodbye, little dove.” She told her, her tone flat, her eyes cold.

 

“Your Grace.” Sansa curtsied. “Thank you for your lessons.”

 

Cersei scoffed. “Don’t forget them. You may need your weapons soon enough.”

 

Sansa remembered that conversation, the one that seemed to have happened a lifetime ago.

_Tears aren’t a woman’s only weapon. The best one’s between your legs._

 

Sansa just curtsied one more time, then boarded the ship.

 

She wasn’t provided with any company for to the trip, so she had no one to talk to, and the Earl of Mercia wanted her to stay in her cabin as much as possible, because she was too pretty to be about on her own and he didn’t have time to babysit her.

 

What else he would do on a ship was beyond her understanding, but she wasn’t about to argue. He treated her as a nuisance when he was in a bad mood, and he just plain ignored her when he was in a good one.

 

The month they spent on that cursed ship was the longest of her life. She was seasick and miserable during the first week. After she got used to being on the ship, she embroidered as much as possible, because there was nothing else to do, besides wonder about her future and fear it.

 

She was tired of fearing everything.

 

When they finally arrived at the port, there was a small -but heavily guarded- committee waiting for them. Sansa’s legs felt weak under her, like they weren’t used to firm ground anymore. However, she was happy to finally see other women, and mostly anyone that wasn’t Mercia. The two girls -Jane and Ruth -were quiet and soft spoken.

 

Sansa felt a small kinship towards England. Of course, this was based on nothing but its weather; the constantly grey sky and the cold wind somehow reminded her of the North. Sansa was happy to be away from the suffocating heat of King’s Landing.

 

They rode for two days, and once they were close to Camelot they stopped in an inn. Sansa was bathed and primped until she was considered good enough to meet the King. Jane and Ruth had gushed about her beautiful hair as they styled it in a way they imagined it would be pleasing to their king.

 

Once they got closer to the castle, something inside Sansa became restless.

 

Camelot felt… Dead. It was a strange feeling, but it was like the land had no life. The scenery was grey as far as the eyes could see and that Tower… There was something strange there.

 

Sansa felt dread pooling on her stomach.  


They continued on their way, and Sansa saw signs of construction all over the place. It was quiet, without the usual sounds of jest she’d seen in construction sites as a child.

 

There was something chilling about Camelot.

 

The doors of the Throne room opened, allowing Sansa in. Mercia didn’t follow her, and she found herself alone. After all the public spectacles that Joffrey liked to put on, it was strange to be like this. There were quiet guards in strategic positions, but nobody else.

 

That was when she finally saw the King.

 

Vortigern Pendragon was a handsome man. He had sharp features and a powerful presence, his clothes and his posture were those of a king. He wasn’t a boy playing a part, like Joffrey had been.

 

But his eyes were dead.

 

_“King Vortigern is a cruel man that murdered his brother and his family for the throne.”_

 

Sansa lowered her head, kneeling in front of the throne. “Your Grace.”

 

There was a pause. “Your Majesty.” He corrected.

 

Sansa started trembling, wondering if he’d punish her so early for the mishap. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.”

 

Silence again, then he got up. She remained exactly as she was, eyes fixed on the ground even as she heard his steps approaching her. Finally, she could see his boots, right in front of her.

 

“Rise.” He commanded.

 

She did so on shaking legs, her eyes still lowered. The King touched her chin, making her look at him.

 

“Lady Sansa Stark…” He spoke her name carefully, as if he was tasting it. “The last of her honorable House. The heiress of the North of Westeros.”

 

There was something about the way he’d said it, like he was calculating and planning even as he spoke the words.

 

“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Majesty.” She spoke.

 

“You’re young.” He commented.

 

What could she answer to that? “Yes, My King.”

 

He appeared to be analyzing her face. “Pretty too.”

 

Once again… There was something in his voice. It wasn’t a compliment, it wasn’t an accusation, but still more than just a statement. There was something in his voice that was ringing warning bell in her ears.

 

_You can be his whore, his servant…_

 

“I hope that pleases you, Your Majesty.” She finally offered.

 

The corner of his mouth curled up minimally. “I find your manners pleasing. The question now is…” He grabbed her chin, not in a painful grip, but firm enough to let her know he could hurt her if he wished. “Are they real or just sweet lies from sweet lips?”

 

“My only wish is to serve my King.” She spoke in the same way she claimed to love Joffrey and when she wished for his safe return.

 

His grin became more pronounced. “That will do.” He stepped back towards his throne. “How old are you, Lady Sansa?” He asked without turning.

 

“Ten and five, my King.” She answered.

 

He hummed as he sat back. “I have a daughter, her name is Katia. She’s a quiet girl, she needs good company.” He gave her a prodding look. “Can you be a good lady in waiting for her, Lady Sansa?”

 

“It’ll be an honor, Your Majesty.”

 

What else could she do?

 

***

 

Princess Katia was a sweet girl that couldn’t go anywhere. Vortigern only allowed her one trip a year; a few weeks of summer in some noble’s house. Other than that, Sansa spent her entire time with the young princes in Camelot.

 

The King was a mystery to her. She’d heard stories of how he controlled his people with an iron fist and a healthy helping of fear. Any word of the “True King” was to be squashed as ruthlessly as possible. There were also whispers of dark magic, that he’d sold his soul for his power, and the tower he’d so diligently built would bring darkness upon them all.

 

People feared him and he liked that.

 

Sansa kept herself silent and docile, and that was how she heard all the stories. Hardly anyone paid attention to the lost girl from Westeros. She just moved around the castle, gathering all the information she could.

 

She didn’t know what Vortigern wanted from her. He treated her with the same indifference he treated Katia’s other ladies in waiting, only rarely paying attention to her. In those moments he’d ask questions about the North and Westeros and prod her for whatever she knew about either. Sansa didn’t know that much about the land, but she could talk about the families and the results of the War of the Five Kings and that seemed enough for him.

 

She’d traded a cage for another, and though she didn’t live in fear anymore, she felt frozen in time.

 

And, like this, two years passed.

 

And then… Whispers of revolution started.

 

The True King was back.

 

The Sword was free from the Stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your feelings!
> 
> This first chapter is just a estabilishing one to put Sansa in England (I kept the name, because they use it on the movie), next chapter things will start moving.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://madamebaggio.tumblr.com/) where I've been having way too much fun with gifsets.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, there!!!
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos and the comments, guys! I know it's a very crazy idea and I appreciate you giving it a chance with so little to go buy. Truly, you're the best.
> 
> Geographically speaking, I honestly didn't give much thought to this whole thing. I suppose England can be an island on the other side of Westeros (the one that is not turned to Essos). I'm using England and Londinium because those are the names used on the movie, so I'm keeping them. Eerybody speaks the same language and that's it.  
> Honestly, I just wanted and excuse to put Arthur and Sansa together and that was what I came up with... hahahah
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Arthur had never planned on starting a revolution. He hadn’t been lying when he told King Vortigern he was a no one, that he’d disappear.

 

He’d never seen himself as a hero. He didn’t believe he had what it took to save the people of his land, but -perhaps -he lived too long with his head buried in the sand, pretending there wasn’t a world around him. He could go on pretending he was untouchable, and that he’d always be fine, but it wasn’t the truth.

 

Getting that sword out of that stone had been a blessing and a curse at the same time. It forced him to open his eyes in a way that was both frightening and freeing. It forced him to face things about himself he’d ignored for too long.

 

The Mage had been right: he was the one rejecting the sword, he was scared of truly seeing.

 

He wasn’t scared anymore.

 

Perhaps Vortigern should be now.

 

Two months in this revolution of theirs and they still needed way more than they had. Vortigern wouldn’t leave the castle and they didn’t have the army to storm it. They were stuck.

 

But, then again, so was the so called King. The Tower’s construction had stopped since they sunk the ships and freed the slaves.

 

That, and Arthur was still alive.

 

He was calling it a draw.

 

“I’m glad this whole ‘king’ thing hasn’t changed your morals.” Back Lack commented form his right. ”But it’d still be pretty easy to grab the princess.”

 

From his higher position, Arthur could agree. They’d followed the princess in hopes that Vortigern would be with his daughter for this outing, but he wasn’t. They kept a silent watch on the group passing below them. There was a reasonable amount of guards, but Arthur’s people had a perfect position for an ambush if he wished. It was a narrow road and the walls of the cliffs were forcing the group in a single line, easy to take down.

 

There should’ve been guards where Arthur’s men were now. It was a sloppy work.

 

Arthur wasn’t sure if this was a trap or not. It seemed a bit strange that Vortigern would allow his precious daughter to go anywhere with things as they were right now. But then again, maybe Vortigern thought he’d look weak and scared of Arthur if he kept her locked inside the castle.

 

Perhaps he just didn’t care.

 

Arthur couldn’t claim to know or understand his uncle’s motives.

 

He had no intention of attacking or kidnapping the king’s daughter. It was a low he wasn’t ready to sink to yet. He couldn’t say he’d never do it -he was starting to worry to what point this revolution would push him -but he wouldn’t use a girl against her father. Not now.

 

This was the type of thing Vortigern would do.

 

Arthur didn’t want to be like him.

 

The princess was probably inside the coach, but some of her ladies were on horseback. Arthur was almost sure Maggie was one of them, but he was too far to be sure.

 

They had nothing to see there.

 

“Let’s go.” He decided, already turning to go.

 

“Who’s that?” Wet Stick asked, making him turn back.

 

One of the ladies had pushed her hood back.

 

_Fire._

 

That was the word that crossed Arthur’s mind at the first glimpse. Her hair was a bright red, a color he’d never seen before; it shone like a banner under the sun.

 

“Some girl from Westeros.” Percival answered Wet Stick.

 

“Westeros?” Wet Stick scrunched his brow. “Ain’t that the place with the dragons or some shite like that?”

 

“Aye.” Back Lack nodded. “They’re a bunch of sister fuckers, I think.”

 

“What’s she doing here?” Arthur asked, his eyes following the red hair.

 

Percival shrugged. “Her King gave her to Vortigern. Nobody really knows why.”

 

“She looks pretty.” Wet Stick commented.

 

“You don’t know that.” Back Lack protested. “It’s too far to know.”

 

As the two bickered over the possibility, Arthur turned his attention to Percival. “Is she relevant to us?”

 

Percival shook his head. “She’s just another lady locked inside that castle. She isn’t a threat, but she isn’t an ally. Maggie says she’s just a quiet young girl.”

 

Arthur looked at the beautiful red hair once again. Just to commit it to memory, then let it go.

 

He had other pressing things right now.

 

XxX

 

“Sansa, sing for us.” Princess Katia asked.

 

They were staying at the house of one of Maggie’s uncles this summer, though their trip was extremely short this year. Normally they spent four to five weeks outside Camelot, this time it’d be just a fortnight.

 

After dinner, the ladies had retired to a separate room to embroidery and talk about whatever they wished, while still under the watchful eye of Lady Maggie’s aunt.

 

Sansa gave her a polite smile. “Of course, Your Highness. Which one would you like me to sing?”

 

“The one about Jonquil!”

 

Sansa just nodded, then cleared her throat and started singing.

 

She wasn’t fond of songs anymore. All those tales of heroes and love had turned her naïve and stupid, making her think the world was a beautiful place. She hadn’t sung in King’s Landing, because the place showed her how wrong she was. She gave up on her stories and songs, because all of it had lost the magic to her.

 

However, Katia loved songs and stories. Once she found out that Sansa knew songs that she’d never heard before, she insisted on listening them. Sansa could hardly deny the princess something so simple, so she sang to her and told her the stories she knew by heart.

 

Katia was actually older than Sansa, but she was sheltered and innocent. Vortigern kept her like a rose in a glass garden: protected from all and isolated from the real world. Sansa didn’t understand the King’s relationship with his daughter; she believed he cared for her, but he hardly demonstrated it. Katia accepted it as a man’s behavior and she cleared adored her father.

 

However, one had to wonder… Katia should be married by now. She was surely old enough to be at least betrothed, but the King would not even discuss the matter. Therefore, Katia was left at Camelot, dreaming of knights and romances, and Sansa sang to her because she was once like that too. Here, in England, it was easy to pretend she still was.

 

The ladies clapped once Sansa finished and she once again gave them the same polite smile.

 

“You have a lovely voice, Lady Sansa.” Lady Maggie commented from her place.

 

“You are too kind, my lady.”

 

Sansa didn’t dislike Maggie -she’d never done anything to the Stark -but she also didn’t trust her. There was something about Maggie that made Sansa be wary of her. Or perhaps it was just how much she adulated the King.

 

Sansa had wondered if she was the King’s mistress, but the maids were sure Maggie was the perfect example of a virtuous lady. Sansa had learned to listen to the people that worked around the castle, because they knew more than most people suspected.

 

Sansa remained cautious around Maggie.

 

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Sansa.” Lady Beatrice, their host and Maggie’s aunt, gushed to Sansa. “We’ve heard so much about you; how accomplished you are, with such beautiful manners. Your mother must be very proud of you.”

 

Sansa forced herself to give the woman a smile. “She was, my lady, while she was alive.”

 

Lady Beatrice gasped, hand going to her mouth. “Oh no! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring back such a painful memory.” She fanned herself dramatically. “Was she sick?”

 

Nobody knew exactly what happened to her before coming to England, and many wondered. Katia was aware that she’d lost her family, because they commiserated over losing their mothers sometimes, but that was the extent to what the princess knew.

 

Everybody else wondered. It was no shock that Lady Beatrice would try to find out.

 

“Aunt!” Maggie seemed appealed by her relative’s lack of discretion. “This is hardly…”

 

Something inside Sansa snapped. They wanted a story? They wanted drama? She’d give them a story. “It all started with my father’s death, actually.” The whole room got quiet, every eye fixed on her.

 

“He was accused of treason by the King, who was then my betrothed.” She told her audience, eyes vacant, her tone placid. “Amidst that chaos, my little sister disappeared, and I never saw her again. I watched as my father was beheaded in public like a common criminal. Then my betrothed forced me to look to his head in a spike.”

 

She sighed, her eyes going back to her embroidery, so she picked her needle up again and went back to it.  “That was about the time my eldest brother raised our banners in the North and marched towards the Capital. My mother was with him. He was then betrayed by one of our own bannerman, and he was slaughtered at a wedding feast, along with my mother and his pregnant wife. They threw my mother’s body in the river, and beheaded my brother, attached the head of his wolf to his body that was then paraded around.”

 

She’d missed a stitch. She tsked, and worked on fixing it. “Unfortunately, they left my younger siblings alone in Winterfell, where they were killed and had their bodies burned. My sister might be alive, but it’s more likely I’m the last Stark. Though…” She paused and thought for a minute. “I do have a half-brother that I haven’t seen in years. He might still be alive.”

 

She went back to her embroidery, letting her words sink in. The group was so quiet, she fancied it’d be possible to listen to the mice scurrying around the house. She was quite pleased by that effect; she could use some silence.

 

“Lady Sansa!” Beatrice gasped theatrically. “I had no idea…”

 

“Aunt, I think that’s more than enough.” Maggie snapped at the woman, who looked affronted by it.

 

“I’m so sorry, Sansa.” Katia murmured softly, her words truly sincere. “I had no idea.”

 

“It is of no consequence, Katia.” Sansa’s smile was smaller, but this time it was honest. “It taught me a lot about the world and myself.”

 

Katia frowned, not sure what to make of it, but Maggie…

 

Sansa noticed that Lady Maggie had an accessing look in her eyes, like she was evaluating Sansa for something.

 

She was sure the lady would say what she had in mind when the time came.

 

XxX

 

“Lady Sansa.”

 

Sansa turned to Maggie, surprised to hear the woman calling her. As previously stated, Sansa might not hate Maggie, but they weren’t friends as well.

 

“Lady Maggie.” Sansa nodded at her.

 

“I hope my aunt hasn’t offended you.” Maggie spoke softly and she sounded sincere.

 

“She didn’t. It is strange to be in a place where no one knows your life. I was used to people on King’s Landing looking at me and knowing everything. Or thinking they did, at any rate.” She added as an afterthought, not sure why she did it.

 

Maggie was once again looking at her with interest. It was quite a fascinating process, because Sansa felt like she could see the thought process Maggie was going through, while she decided if she should speak or not.

 

“Tomorrow I’ll be going to Londinium with my aunt. Katia can’t come, because Vortigern won’t allow it, but I was wondering… Would you like to come?”

 

“I’ve never been to Londinium before…” Sansa commented, as her mind ran around, trying to make a decision. She didn’t have good memories of walking around cities such as Londinium, so she hadn’t expressed a wish to do it before.

  
“It’s quite safe.” Maggie assured her. “We’ll visit some places with guards. We’ll go in the morning and come back before night fall.”

 

Why was she insisting so much? What did she want?

 

Sansa should say no. As far as she knew, Maggie would leave her in the middle of the city to fend for herself or do something much more tragic. She shouldn’t mistrust someone so much, but she didn’t believe she could ever trust another person again. Not truly.

 

However, she saw herself curious. What did Maggie truly want?

 

“Thank you for the invitation. I’d love to accompany you.” Sansa gave her the same polite smile she always used here.

 

For the first time in two years, Sansa was curious enough to stick her neck out. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t lose it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your feelings!
> 
> Next chapter... The first meeting. Oh my...
> 
> By the way, you can all find me on [Tumblr](https://madamebaggio.tumblr.com/) where this whole story started.
> 
> Let me know your feelings!
> 
> xoxo


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments! You're all very kind.
> 
> I just finished that and it hasn't been reviewed in anyway... So let me know if there's something very bad on it...
> 
> Enjoy!

**Chapter 3**

Lady Beatrice carried mostly of the conversation alone. The woman wouldn’t stop talking as the coach travelled the way to Londinium.

 

Sansa was particularly good at nodding and smiling at the appropriate moments, and Beatrice hardly needed help to continue the conversation. Maggie seemed to be adept of the same technique, because she was also merely smiling and nodding along.

 

Sansa had one adventure in King’s Landing with memories she’d rather not have. She could still smell the stench if she closed her eyes, feel the disgusting air of the city clogging her throat. The rottenness of the people reflected on the city, quite clearly.

 

After she was attacked by the men while walking on the streets, she vowed never to step out of the Red Keep again; not that she had that much choice upon the matter. There was a part of her that expected Londinium to be somewhat the same. She could picture the dirt on the roads, the hungry people, the disgusting smell all around.

 

Somehow it was not as terrible as she’d feared. It didn’t stink as much as King’s Landing did, but that must have something to do with the weather. When she’d walked down the city it had been a boiling hot day, this had to worsen the smell somehow.

 

The roads in Londinium were not paved, and it had rained during the night, so there was mud everywhere. However, Maggie and her aunt knew exactly where they were going, and Sansa hardly saw anything through the window of their coach.

 

Sansa knew very little about Londinium, since Vortigern hardly ever went there and never allowed Katia to go. Maggie obviously knew it a bit better, and they were taken directly to the places the women wanted to go; most of them dressmakers. Sansa didn’t have any money -everything she had was ‘graciously’ given to her by Vortigern -so she couldn’t order dresses like Maggie and her aunt were doing, but she didn’t mind it at all. She was happy to sit and observe the whole spectacle.

 

“Aunt, Sansa and I will go ahead and visit Frederick, if you do not mind.” Maggie called suddenly, as Beatrice was discussing yet another dress with the seamstress.

 

“Oh yes, dear.” Beatrice spoke absent-mindedly, waving her hand. “See you later.”

 

Sansa said nothing as Maggie passed her arm through the Stark’s. “Frederick makes lovely combs. Maybe we should get you one for your beautiful hair.” She spoke as they left the dressmaker.

 

“That is very kind of you, lady Maggie, but I do not have money of my own.” Sansa indicated politely.

 

“Nonsense. It can be my present for you.” Maggie waved the concern away.

 

That was the moment Sansa became absolutely sure that Maggie had some kind of plan for her. She brought her to an unfamiliar city and was now leaving Beatrice behind, to take Sansa somewhere else. Perhaps it would be a good moment to confront her, but there was still a morbid curiosity inside Sansa to see what she was planning.

 

They walked for a few minutes, while Maggie indicated places she knew when something actually happened. Although, much later, Sansa was convinced it wasn’t what Maggie had planned, it was just Fate taking care of things.

 

They were coming down one of the streets when a group of young men started yelling that the Born King would come to save them all from the Fake King.

 

Sansa had heard whispers of rebellion, but since she was always in Camelot she’d never seen such open defiance against Vortigern. Maggie herself looked perplexed by the display, and that was even before the Blacklegs appeared out of nowhere.

 

“Oh lord.” Maggie murmured in shock.

 

It was like it only took a second to start: suddenly the young men were being attacked by the Blacklegs, however the guards were in smaller number and the people around did not stand and let it happen. They charged against the guards with whatever they had in their hands.

 

It was an uprising, right in front of her eyes.

 

Suddenly, the memory of that moment, so long ago in King’s Landing, came flooding through Sansa’s head. The men that grabbed her, tried to tear her clothes apart… But this time there would be no Hound to save her.

 

“We have to go!” She told Maggie urgently.

 

Maggie nodded and turned to look for an alternative way out, when someone crashed into them. Sansa was separated from Maggie and pushed away to one of the side streets. She looked around, desperately trying to find the other lady again, but when she failed to locate her, she started to move.

 

She was alone in a place she didn’t know at all. If the people were so angry at the King, a noble woman could easily become a target. She pulled her hood up, trying to hide heir hair; its color called too much attention.

 

She had no idea how to go back to the dressmaker, but she started walking purposefully away from the mass of people.

 

Until someone stepped in her way.

 

It was a man she’d never seen before: he was tall -taller than her, which had become rarer and rarer lately – his shoulders were wide and his arms were obviously strong, his hair was a dark blond, pushed back. Now his eyes… They were sky blue, but they were freezing and locked on her.

 

And he was not moving.

 

“Let me pass.” She spoke with more bravado than she actually felt.

 

He snorted. “No. Should you really be out of your cage?”

 

He knew who she was. And he had some nerve. “I’m not in a cage.” She hissed, even as Cersei’s voice droned in her ear: “little dove, little dove…”

 

He arched a brow at her, then crossed his arms over his chest. “No? Where do you figure you are?”

 

“None of your business.”

 

His look made it quite clear he was vastly unimpressed by her. “I hope you aren’t trying to run. You won’t get very far.”

 

“Where would I run to?” She snapped before she could stop herself. Why was she arguing with this idiot? “I am alone here, just as I was alone in King’s Landing.” She finished, more to herself than to him, because she didn’t owe him an explanation.

 

The stranger gave her a flat look, before taking a step in her direction. Sansa reflexively took a step back.

 

“If he knows you’re here, he’ll rip the houses apart looking for you, princess.” His voice might not be raised, but the fury in it was clear. “Go back to your golden cage and leave us, small folk, in peace.” He paused. “Pretty bird.” He added as an afterthought, like he was really trying to get to her.

 

Sansa took a deep breath. She couldn’t antagonize this stranger; she was alone in Londinium, without any idea how to get back to wherever Maggie or her aunt were. She should be quiet.

 

However, when he turned his back to her, dismissing her so easily, something snapped inside her, just like the night before. She was tired of being dismissed.

 

“Do not call me a pretty bird.” She spoke, her voice firm. “You know nothing of me.”

 

He turned back to her, his expression somewhere shocked and peeved. “I know enough.” He replied, coming closer again. “You’ve been living inside the castle, the favorite pet of the King.”

 

“Who do you think you are?” She demanded. “You’re nobody to tell me who…”

 

He stepped up to her, less than a palm of distance between them. “Who do you think I am?” He spoke, his voice dangerously soft.

 

Sansa wasn’t sure why it happened, but suddenly she understood exactly who she was.

 

“The Pretender…” She murmured, eyes going round.

 

He was the one fighting against Vortigern, giving hope to the people. He was the one they called the Born King.

 

He snorted. “Careful who you call ‘Pretender’, princess. I have a sword that claims I am the King.”

 

“Oh yes.” She spoke without thinking much about it. “And yesterday a fish told me I shall be the Queen.”

 

He made a show of looking her up and down. “I wouldn’t kick you out of the bed.”

 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I have no choice in my life; I was given to Vortigern as a present. I live under his roof, but I will not be involved in any of this.”

 

“You won’t have a choice, sweetheart. Soon everybody will have to pick a side.” He pointed out.

 

“I’m not even from here!” She protested. “I didn’t ask to be dragged here. Why do I have to…” She stopped and pressed her lips together. “Why are you here?”

 

It finally seemed to click in her head: he’d been looking for her. Somehow, he found her in the middle of Londinium, stepped in front of her. Somehow, he knew exactly who she was, even though she was sure she’d never seen him before and she hardly ever left Camelot.

 

She took a step back, a bit scared. “What do you want with me?”

 

“Calm down.” He asked.

 

“You knew who I was. You’re looking for me!” She accused.

  
“Don’t flatter yourself, Red.” He snorted, but it didn’t sound honest.

 

“Vortigern won’t care if you hurt me.” She hurried to say. “I’m nothing to him!”

 

“I’m not here to hurt you.” He rebutted quickly.

 

“And I should just take your word?” She asked, incredulity bleeding into her voice.

 

He didn’t reply, because he obviously knew how ridiculous it was to ask her to simply trust him like that.

 

He took a step back, then took a deep breath. “I am not here to hurt you.” He repeated firmly. “But if you think you can hide forever inside the castle and not be part of this, just because you are not from here, you’re mad.”

 

“So I should be on your side?” She threw at him.

 

“From what I heard… You don’t have much luck with Kings you’re given to.” He started backing way, his eyes on her. “You might want to make your own choices this time around.”

 

Despite this whole situation, Sansa couldn’t hold in the derision in her voice. “And you are supposed to be my best choice?”

 

He was already farther from here, still walking backwards, his eyes still on her. “I’m not the one keeping you on a cage, am I, little bird?”

 

Before she could retort he turned and disappeared in the middle of the crowd.

 

“The nerve of that…”

 

“SANSA!”

 

She turned, seeing Lady Maggie breathless coming in her direction. She was between two of the guards that had accompanied them on this outing.

 

“Lady Maggie.” Sansa sighed in relief. “I’m glad to see you’re fine.”

 

“I’m more worried about you.” Maggie seemed genuine at least. “You know nothing of the city… Are you fine?”

 

Sansa nodded. “Yes. Do not worry.”

  
“Did anyone bother you?” Maggie pressed.

 

“No one important.”

 

XxX

 

Arthur should’ve known that this was a waste of his time. He had no idea what Maggie had seen in that girl, but she was no fighter. She would not take sides, too busy protecting her own hide.

 

Exactly like he’d been doing not so long ago.

 

Arthur had to give it to her: she stood up to him far longer than he’d expected. She was as young, far too young to be of any use. He didn’t know what Maggie had in her head.

 

“So… How was it with the lass?” Back Lack asked as Arthur went back to the place they were hiding.

 

“She’s no use.” He declared.

  
“Why do you say that?” Bedivere asked curious.

 

“Because I talked to her.” Arthur told him dryly.

 

Bill snorted. “Well, that explains it. Even if she was somehow inclined towards our cause, I’m sure your charm convinced her of the opposite.”

 

Arthur gave the older man an unimpressed look.

 

They could say whatever they wanted. Lady Stark was not his problem.

 

But those blue eyes… They came back to haunt him later on.

 

 

XxX

 

Sansa was brushing her hair, the meeting from earlier still clear in her mind.

 

She was not as naïve as the so called Born King seemed to think she was. She knew Vortigern cared nothing for her, and was only using her for something, even though she still didn’t know what for. She didn’t think he’d protect her if something were to happen, especially a war.

 

But what should she do? Jump in the arms of the first man that came to her, claiming to be the True King? Should she swoon while she was at it?

 

The thing was… She was pretty sure that, if she were younger, she might have done exactly that. She’d been so stupid once, that the tale of a King coming from nothing and rescuing her would be like a dream come true.

 

She was happy that stupid Sansa didn’t exist anymore.

 

“Come in.” She called after hearing the knocking on her door.

 

“Lady Sansa.” It was Maggie. “I just came to see if you are fine.”

 

After Maggie found her, they went to look for Beatrice and immediately went back to the house. Sansa had no idea what had happened to people in the city, if more guards had arrived.

 

“I am. Thank you for asking.”

 

Maggie closed the door behind herself. “Did you… Did you see anyone in the city?”

 

“Besides the one that claims to be the Born King, you mean?” Sansa asked, putting her brush down.

 

Maggie was frozen by the door. Sansa gave her one of her most polite smiles. “No, I did not. Was that your intention?”

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“You wanted me to meet him, didn’t you?”

 

“Lady Sansa, I have no idea…”

 

Sansa shook her head. “It is fine, lady Maggie. Forgive me. I am just a stupid girl saying stupid things. If you do not mind, I am very tired.”

 

“Of course.” Maggie recovered quickly, going for the door. “I will see you tomorrow.”

 

“Yes, you will.”

 

Sansa watched as the woman closed the door behind herself. Now, that… That was interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is onto Maggie!
> 
> Next chapter... Arthur thinks he's Romeo or at least that he's invisible and can just enter other people's house.
> 
> Bad news, guys… My life is about to be turned upside down. I quit my job, but I still have to stick around for a month to help until they find a replacement. However, I still have to start working on the new place, so for a month I will have two jobs. That means I am so fucked right now. So… It’s very unlikely I will manage to write anything for the next month… But life is life. I hope you guys don’t give up on me!
> 
> Let me know your feelings!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the delay!! Thank you so much for all teh support I received! You are all very kind.  
> My work situation has finally settled and I am back to a more human schedule.  
> I had problems last weekend (family stuff, elections) so that's why I didn't post it when I promised.
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for the support and awesome comments! I hope you enjoy this new chapter.

“You are quiet.” Bedivere spoke suddenly, making everybody look at him, until they noticed he was looking at Bill.

 

“Yes… I was thinking about something Arthur said.” He explained.

 

“What exactly?” Bedivere wanted to know.

 

“Arthur said that Lady Sansa claimed the king would not care if she was hurt.” He looked at Arthur. “Correct?”

 

“Yes. So?” Arthur asked.

 

“Why would she be here if Vortigern didn’t care for her?” Bill pointed out. “She has to be somehow necessary. He _bought_ her.”

 

Bedivere turned to Percival. “How much did the king pay for her?”

 

“We do not know exactly.” He informed the others. “However, Maggie heard rumors that go anywhere from a hundred to a thousand ships.”

 

Arthur arched a brow. “He exchanged one girl for ships?”

 

“Yes.” Percival confirmed.

 

“So she thinks he does not care for her…” Bill started.

 

“But he must want something.” Bedivere completed.

 

“And the question is… What?” Bill finished.

 

“Didn’t Maggie say she is the last of her family?” Rubio interrupted. “Maybe he wants her lands.”

 

“But is it that much?” Wet Stick threw in. “I mean, if she was the princess and all, but isn’t she just the daughter of someone?”

 

That made them all quiet.

 

“There is another possibility.” Mage suddenly spoke, attracting everybody’s attention.

 

“What are you thinking?” Arthur wanted to know.

 

“What do we know about Westeros?” She asked.

  
“Dragons.” Most people around the room said at the same time.

 

The Mage rolled her eyes. “Besides that.”

 

“Not much.” Bedivere admitted. “I remember something about Kings that married their sisters, and a great wall, but not much more.”

 

“I remember the story about a wall too.” Bill said, then shrugged. “But no more than that.”

 

“You said her name is Stark, right?” Rubio asked.

 

“Yes.” Bedivere confirmed.

 

“I used to know the name of the old Houses of Westeros.” The boy commented. “My father liked to test me in the smallest things. What I know is that her House is one of the oldest ones. I might be remembering this wrong, but I think they were once called the Kings of Winter.”

 

The Mage arched a brow and Bill noticed. “What are you thinking?” He wanted to know.

 

“Old families often have magic in their blood.” She started explaining. “If the House managed to keep the bloodline somewhat pure…” She looked into the distance. “She might still have enough magic in her blood.”

 

“What can Vortigern use it for?” Bedivere questioned.

  
“Many things.” The Mage shrugged. “If she is a virgin, he might even sacrifice her.”

 

“If he was going to sacrifice her he could have done it as soon as he got her.” Back Slack indicated.

 

“Maybe he wants to wait for the Tower to be ready.” Bedivere reasoned.

 

“Or maybe he will marry her.” Bill pointed out.

 

They all turned to him. “He does not have an heir.” The man indicated. “Princess Katia cannot assume the throne.”

 

“He could want the magic blood for his heir.” The Mage agreed.

  
“But again… Why hasn’t he married her already?” Wet Stick pushed.

 

“She is too young.” Back Lack indicated. “He looked at her, saw his daughter; couldn’t do it.”

 

“Many nobles do it without thinking about it.” Bedivere reminded the other man.

 

“How many of them keep their daughters inside a castle?” Back Lack insisted. “The lass doesn’t even have a betrothed.”

 

“We don’t know for sure, but it is a possibility.” Rubio sighed.

 

“There is only one way to know.” The Mage concluded. “I need her blood.”

 

They all looked at her like she was crazy. “What for?” Wet Stick demanded, shocked.

 

“So I can see if it has magic.” The Mage said as if it was obvious.

 

“Her blood?” He insisted, still a bit shocked.

 

The Mage rolled her eyes. “Fine. A lock of hair will do.”

 

“You could have started with that.” Back Lack pointed out dryly.

 

“Blood would be better.” The Mage simply said.

 

“But even if it is just the hair… How are we going to get it?” Percival asked.

  
“I will get it.” Arthur suddenly said.

 

He’d been quiet this whole time, listening to this conversation and the theories being thrown around.

 

“What did you just say?” Back Lack asked.

  
“I will go and get it.” Arthur repeated firmly.

 

“Why you?” Bill wanted to know.

 

“It is too risky.” Bedivere was already shaking his head. “You cannot go…”

 

“Whatever, Bedivere.” Arthur brushed off his protests. “I can be in and out before anyone notices. I’m the most indicated for this.”

 

Bill was looking at him, an eyebrow arched. “Or you just really want to see the lady.”

 

Arthur snorted. “I never said I did.”

 

Bill scoffed. “Le him go, if he thinks he is the best choice.” The man drawled.

 

“I do not even know why you are pretending I have any say over this.” Bedivere grumbled.

  
“That is the spirit, Bed.” Arthur slapped the older man on the shoulder.

 

XxX

 

“Is this better?”

 

Sansa looked at the handkerchief Katia was presenting her.

 

“It is much better, princess.” She told the other woman honestly. “You are improving greatly.”

 

Katia’s cheeks were flushed with the praise. “It is because you are so patient. My tutor was always snapping at me.”

 

“It is hardly necessary.”

 

Katia put her embroidery down. “Sansa… How was being betrothed to someone?”

 

Sansa’s hand paused on her work. “Perhaps… I am not the best person to ask, princess.”

 

Katia blushed furiously. “I am so sorry! This was so unsensitive of me…”

 

“It is no problem, Katia.” Sansa gave her a small smile.

 

Nowadays, Katia was the only person that got honest smiles from Sansa. The young princess was honestly good, even if she occasionally had bratty moments. Sansa felt truly sorry for her, locked away in a castle, waiting for life to pass her by.

 

It was strange to feel protective of someone that was older than her. However, Katia was unbelievably naïve; like Sansa had been one day.

 

“It was a dream, at first.” Sansa finally replied. “He was my beautiful golden prince and I would be queen one day. I blinded myself to all the signs that were shoved in my face, I ignored my father’s advice and my own intuition…”

 

Sansa paused and took a deep breath, before looking at Katia. “My father said he would find someone worthy of me; strong, gentle and brave. I told him I did not want that, I wanted Joffrey.” She shook her head at herself. “I was a stupid little girl.”

 

“I am sorry for asking.” Katia murmured softly.

 

“I know you want to find a knight of your own.” Sansa told her gently. “But your father loves you…” At least Sansa thought he did. “He is probably waiting to find the best possible match for you.”

 

Katia gave her a small smile. “I always wanted to fall in love.” She confessed. “Like in the songs you sing.”

 

Sansa just smiled at her, because she didn’t have the heart to tell Katia that songs were all lies and there was no one gentle, brave and strong in this world.

 

XxX

 

“Why am I here?”

 

Arthur arched a brow at Percival. “You offered to come.” He reminded the other man dryly.

 

“I am talking to myself.” Percival told him.

 

“If you are scared you can go, lad.” Back Lack threw at him.

 

“This is a stupid idea from a strategic point of view.” Percival indicated. “If they catch us…”

 

“So we don’t get caught.” Arthur spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Then no problems.”

 

Percival’s expression revealed his complete lack of amusement.

 

“Now, Back Lack.” Arthur turned to the man. “Keep the horses ready in case we have to leave in a hurry.”

  
“Will do.”

 

“You…” He turned to Percival. “Start climbing.”

 

Percival sighed, but turned to the outside wall of the small keep and did was he was ordered.

 

They decided to get inside the place without Maggie’s help, so in case they were found, nobody could implicate anyone of the house as accomplice.

 

Percival still thought it was a stupid idea, but he had volunteered to come. Mostly because he knew the keep.

 

A lot had changed in his life since he’d become involved with the rebels, but Percival was, actually, from a noble family; a lower, but noble nonetheless. His parents knew Maggie’s family and they’d played together as children, including in this particular place.

 

It was how they all got involved with the rebels. Well, not all of them, most of Maggie’s family was still pretty much in favor of the King, if nothing else for fear.

 

They landed by the side of the stable, and looked around. “The rooms used to be over there.” Percival pointed for Arthur. “I don’t think they have changed that.”

 

Arthur slapped him on the shoulder. “Excellent. You come with me, guard the entrance. If someone suspects anything, whistle and I’ll come down.”

 

“Yes, because me whistling out of nowhere won’t be suspicious at all.”

 

Arthur -as expected -just ignored him again. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”

 

Percival sighed. Why was he here again?

 

XxX

 

Sansa felt as if she was playing some odd game of cat and mouse with Lady Maggie. The lady in question had been avoiding being alone with her; she only engaged Sansa in extremely polite conversation and never stayed in a situation where they could have a private talk even among other people.

 

Sansa had avoided her for a while too, right after they came back from Londinium.  However, once she realized Maggie was running from her, Sansa decided to change tactics. She had no intention of talking to Maggie about the rebels and what had happened on Londinium, but… The other woman didn’t need to know that.

 

There was something there, and Sansa wanted to know what it was. She was tired of being a pawn and being passed from one side to the other. She didn’t know exactly what she was doing, but it was still interesting to watch Maggie squirming.

 

She went to her chambers after supper, decided to think better about the situation, but the Gods where never in her favor.

 

As soon as she opened the door she found _him_ , leaning against her wall, casually flipping through one of the poetry books she had.

 

For a delirious second, she prayed she had finally lost her mind, but then he raised his eyes briefly to her and said, “What took you so long, Red?” and she realized this was real.

 

She closed the door behind herself. “What are you doing here?” She demanded, her voice a hiss, wildly looking around.

“I feel like I should say something dramatic and poetic about…”

“GET OUT!” She almost screeched, but seemed to control herself at the last minute.

“Excuse you. You’re destroying my fantasy here.” He told her dryly.

 

“Your fantasy?” She was astounded by the nerve… “What are you doing here?” She demanded once again.

 

“Came to see you.” He declared simply, putting the book down on the closest flat surface.

 

“Why?” She wanted to know. “I already told you I have no value…”

 

“You see…” He shook his finger at her. “That’s where you’re wrong, princess. The King paid for you. You have to be valuable somehow.” He looked her up and down. “Is he visiting your chambers at night?”

 

Sansa gasped. “What? How dare you? King Vortigern treats me with respect…”

 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “So a few kind words are enough for you to defend a man like him?”

 

“Yes!” She snapped. “It is! Because the previous King I lived with liked to humiliate me as much as possible, and -on occasion -beat me up in front of the rest of the court. So forgive me, if I seek a bit of peace now.”

 

Arthur took a deep breath, and Sansa saw his hands closing on fists by his side. She took a step back, suddenly a bit scared.

 

“Why is it enough?” He demanded again. “Shouldn’t you be still hoping? Shouldn’t you still want a hero?”

 

She scoffed. “There are no heroes. In this world we live in, no one can save anyone.”

 

XxX

 

Percival tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, while he kept his post on the stables. From that position, he could clearly see the hallway that led to the family chambers of the keep. If soldiers tried to capture Arthur, they’d have to go through there, and the Born King would have to fly to escape them.

 

Percival snorted; it’d serve Arthur well if he got a scare out of this. He had no idea what the other man had on his mind, but this was a stupid idea, no matter how one looked at it.

 

He wondered if Arthur was truly doing this just to see the girl again, but then discarded the idea as an absurd one. Arthur knew how important this was; he wouldn’t risk anything for a girl he’d seen twice -once being from a distance.

 

While he was there waiting, a stable-hand saw him and told him to check on Pearl. Percival couldn’t say no, so he went to check on Pearl.

 

Pearl turned out to be a sweet mare that had a love for apples and a foal on the way.

 

Percival knew how to care for horses; even before this whole rebel thing happened, his father had loved horses, and insisted that Percival knew how to properly care for them. It was no sacrifice for him to check Pearl’s stall and sneak her an apple. Her stall was in a position that allowed him to keep his eyes on his real task, so he decided to give her a gentle brushing.

 

He was humming an old lullaby -one his mother used to sing to them -when he heard steps. He kept what he was doing, but there was a certain tension on his shoulders; these were soft steps, definitely not the other stable-hand.

 

The steps came closer and Percival met the startled eyes of Princess Katia.

 

“Your Highness.” He spoke quickly, lowering his eyes.

 

He didn’t need to be worried about being recognized by the princess. As previously said, he’d been a lower noble, hardly the type that met the King or his precious daughter.

 

“Hello.” She spoke softly. “I came to see Pearl. Lord Alistair said she is expecting a foal.”

 

“She is, my princess.” He spoke, more in a rumble. He had to be careful with his words now.

 

“Can I come in and touch her?” The princess asked.

 

Percival threw a quick look towards the hallway; no one there. He cleared his throat. “Aye, your highness.”

 

She gave him a small smile before opening the stall door. Percival once again looked at the entrance of the hallway; there were two guards passing by it, but just on their normal rounds.

 

“Just be gentle, my lady.” He murmured, when he saw the princess hesitating once she’d actually entered. “She’s a sweet girl.”

 

The princess gave him another shy smile. “She is.” She finally put her hand gently on Pearl’s neck. “Were you singing to her just now?”

 

“Aye.”

 

“That is quite kind of you.”

 

He raised his head suddenly and his eyes found the princess’s over Pearl’s back. She had bluish grey eyes and delicate features; it was somewhat odd to think that such a pretty and pure creature could be Vortigern’s daughter.

 

He was quick to lower his head again. “I do not remember you.” The princess suddenly spoke. “I thought there was another stable-hand here at this time.”

 

“I am new, my lady.” He answered, hoping against all hope she wouldn’t ask for his name.

 

“The sound of female voices in the distance distracted the princess. She then sighed and took a step back. “I should go.” She murmured, though she didn’t owe him any satisfaction and she clearly didn’t want to go.

 

However, Percival knew very well she couldn’t stay there; she was a princess, he was -supposedly- a stable hand and they were alone. It was hardly proper and he could get in trouble for it.

 

“Have a good night, my lady.” He told her, nodding at her.

 

She gave him another shy smile. “You too.”

 

As she moved away he noticed something: she was humming the same lullaby he’d been humming before.

 

XxX

 

This was not right. Girls like Sansa Stark should dream of heroes and chivalrous acts; they should think the world was a beautiful and perfect place. She was a lady; she had a roof over her pretty had, she had food on her table, she didn’t need to worry about anything…

 

Arthur wanted Sansa Stark to be a spoiled lady, he wanted her to think the world was a perfect place.

 

He hated to see the coldness in her voice, the certainty in her statement. Arthur hated truly knowing what had happened to her. Maggie had only told them the Stark girl had been previously mistreated by a King; she hadn’t told them how.

 

There was a part inside of him that had wanted her to be just another sheltered lady, but she wasn’t. He hated knowing that.

 

“If there are no heroes, be your own hero.” He told her firmly. “Don’t roll over and let them push you around; protect yourself.”

 

She scoffed. “Spoken like a man. I do not expect you to understand me, but I do expect you to leave me alone.” She gave him a pointed look.

 

“I will, in a minute, princess. First, I want a lock of your hair.” He pointed at the fiery curl that was draped over her shoulder.

 

Sansa clasped her hands over it, hiding it from his view. “Why?” She demanded.

 

“We want to check something.” He told her. “We have a theory on why he wants you. You might not care, but I do.” He looked her straight in the eyes. “He is my enemy and I will do whatever it takes to purge this land of him. The question is… Do you want to know?”

 

Sansa looked down at the hand still grasping the hair. “What do you think he wants?”

 

“To sacrifice you.” Arthur informed her. “Quite literally: candles, daggers, virgin sacrifices… The whole spectacle.”

 

“Why me?” She insisted.

  
“That is why I need the lock for: to understand it. Will you give it to me?” He took a step closer.

 

Sansa looked into his eyes, then down at her own hand; she finally let go of her hair. “If it is just one lock…”

 

“It is.” Arthur assured her, pulling a small dagger from his belt, Sansa was startled by the sight of it and almost took a step back. “It is fine.” Arthur was fast to assure her. “I will not hurt you.”

 

She just nodded, eyes fixed on the blade. What had exactly happened to her? There was a story there that he didn’t know and it was driving him to distraction.

 

He stretched his left hand just enough to capture the lonely lock. The back of his finger brushed against her covered shoulder, and her eyes traced his movement, even though she remained silent. Arthur’s own eyes were fixed on the beautiful red of her hair, as he wrapped the strands around his finger; his thumb caressed the strands, and he marveled at the softness.

 

It was as if time had paused for a minute, and all he could do was look at her hair, her eyes and imagine a thousand things. He wanted to ask questions, he wanted to be schooled in _her_ , so he would know all the secrets behind her eyes and her guarded words.

 

And the desire to know everything was strong enough to scare him. He needed to get away from her.

 

He raised his dagger and cut the lock, leaving him with fire wrapped around his finger. “Thank you, my lady.” He finally spoke, his voice rough, like he’d just woken up.

 

Her eyes lingered on his hand for a second, before she once again looked in the eyes. “You should go.” Her voice was soft and uncertain.

 

Whatever had affected him, it certainly had affected her as well.

 

“Yes, my lady.”

 

XxX

 

Arthur waited impatiently as the Mage chanted. They were all there, silently watching as she proclaimed words, lit incense and circled it over the red lock.

 

He wanted answers, now.

 

The Mage finally put the incense down. “This is no good.” She finally spoke.

 

“Why? What happened?” Arthur demanded.

 

“She is in danger, and so are we.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My understanding of horses doesn't go very far, so I hope Pearl was well cared for.
> 
> Anyway... I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Let me know how you feel.
> 
> Cheers


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I AM SO ABSOLUTELY SORRY!
> 
> I had the worst case of writer's block of the year and I was unhappy and pretty miserable. I am kind of back now, trying to write more, so if you reado one of my other fanfics ("Kiss with a fist", "Those Stark Boys" or "If I close my eyes") know that I'm working on them as we speak.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the support, kudos and kind comments. You're all the best.
> 
> BTW... A lot of people keep asking me about the other characters of GoT and if they will show up here. They won't, guys. No Arya, no Jon, no Brienne, or anyone else for that matter. Sansa is alone in Camelot and that's part of the story, ok? Nobody else from GoT will show up in this story. (They might for the epilogue, but jury's still out for that one, but it's basically a cameo to close the story).

“What do you mean?” Bedivere demanded.

 

“The magic in her blood is much stronger than I anticipated.” The Mage murmured, eyes still fixed on the fire. “To have this amount of power… Her bloodline must be extremely ancient, and they somehow were kept relatively pure…”

 

“Are you saying she can use magic?” Bill asked socked.

 

“No. Even if her ancestors practiced magic at some point, I think they left it many generations ago.” The Mage stared into the distance.

 

“Could she be a sorceress?” Bedivere wanted to know.

 

The Mage shook her head. “This magic is dormant; she was never trained in the arts. However…” Now she finally looked at the others. “It is too powerful for it not to manifest in some way.”

 

“Manifest?” Rubio repeated, curious.

 

“Yes. Even if she is not trained, magic this intense finds a way to get out.” The mage explained. “She should have some peculiar talent. In cases like these, it normally is having visions of the future, healing powers or even talking to animals.”

 

“Someone would know if she had any of these gifts, no?” Bill commented.

 

Someone snorted. They all turned to find the women rolling their eyes at Bill.

 

“Something we missed, ladies?” Bedivere asked politely.

 

Ada, who was only a bit older than Arthur, but had helped raising him, gave Bedivere a flat look. “Someone would know? Has it occurred to you that, if she can do any of those things, she is very likely to keep very quiet about it?”

 

“Why?” Rubio was confused.

 

The women groaned in frustration. “Wet Stick, what happened to Daisy when she was accused of witchcraft last year, for no reason other than the fact she was a good healer?” Sigrid asked.

 

Wet Stick winced. “She was taken by the soldiers and we never saw her again.” He told the others.

 

“Women with ‘gifts’ are hardly ever well seen.” Ada told Bedivere. “Being a noble lady might give her some protection, but she would never tell people. I don’t believe Westeros is that different from here.”

 

“She is right.” The Mage called. “There is a chance she might not even know she has gifts, but if she does… She has no reason to tell people. Especially if she has a story as tragic as she supposedly does.”

 

“What do you think he will do to her?” Arthur spoke for the first time since it all had started.

 

His body was tense, his jaw locked. Bedivere and Bill traded looks, but refrained from commenting at that moment.

 

“He is going to sacrifice her.” The Mage spoke, full of conviction. “He would never use her for anything else; she’s perfect: noble blood, magic, virgin…”

 

“How do you know that last part?” Back Lack asked confused.

 

“The hair told me all I needed to know.” She informed him.

 

The man made a disgruntled face, making Wet Stick and Percival snort.

 

“This is easy to fix.” Bill suddenly said.

 

“How?” Rubio asked.

 

“If he needs a virgin sacrifice, and she is not a virgin anymore…”

 

He didn’t need to finish the thought, they’d all understood it.

 

“Yes.” Judith, another one of the girls, drawled. “Because it will be very simple to go to a noble lady and tell her she needs to sleep with someone for the sake of England.” She finished dryly.

  
“Because I expect that is what you’re suggesting right there, Bill.” Arthur said, his voice deadly cold.

 

Bill arched a brow. “I expect you know me well enough to be aware that it is, in fact, what I am suggesting.”

 

“Let us take a deep breath, mates.” Back Lack put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Ladies, what do you think we should do?”

 

“It might be a good time to just tell her the truth.” Ada offered. “If she feels you lot are hiding something from her, she might be more inclined to believe in the other one.”

 

“I agree.” Sarah, another of the girls nodded. “Get Maggie to tell her the truth, she might like us a bit more than.”

 

“What if she’s on his side already?” Arthur pointed out. “What if she doesn’t believe us?”

 

“We have to take the risk.” The Mage answered from her place. “We can’t afford to let him have her. If she won’t believe us… We will need to do something about it.”

 

Arthur took a deep breath. “So you’re suggesting we kill her if she doesn’t believe us.” It wasn’t a question.

 

“It’s either her or England.” The Mage indicated simply. “Which one would you choose?”

 

He didn’t even need to answer that.

 

XxX

 

Sansa hadn’t slept after Arthur left; she hadn’t managed to even close her eyes. He’d scared her, badly. For all this time she’d been living in England, she’d tried to forget everything that happened to her in Westeros, she tried to convince herself it wasn’t her life anymore.

 

She shouldn’t have been so naïve. Again.

 

She didn’t question Vortigern motives, and she should have. By now she knew the King well enough to know he would never have brought her to Camelot if he didn’t have a plan for her. However, she chose to pretend he was just bored or something, and that he just wanted a companion for his daughter.

 

She had been willingly blind; Vortigern could get a thousand girls to keep Katia company without even walking far. He had no reason to need specifically her, he had no reason to trouble himself with bringing her all the way from King’s Landing.

 

Which meant he wanted something.

 

After her first year there, Sansa had started thinking Vortigern wanted to either marry her himself or marry her off to someone else. He was extremely protective of her, and many of the guards wouldn’t talk or even look at her. She thought he was saving her for some reason and the only logical one was marriage.

 

Right?

 

Now she was not so sure anymore. To be honest, since that damned day that Arthur came into her way she wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

 

He’d destroyed her peace and he was still doing it.

 

For a man like him it was easy to say she just needed to fight back and be her own hero. He was raised to fight, and believe that because he could carry a sword the world was his for the taking. He grew up knowing his strength would be measured by what he could do with said sword, and that men would respect him if he was bigger and meaner than the others.

 

Sansa had been raised to be a wife and a mother. She heard a thousand times her kindness and graciousness should be her biggest assets, and that a woman should turn her face away from violence. She was never raised to be a fighter, she was supposed to have a family as soon as possible and care for that family. All the fighting should be left to the men.

 

He spoke like she was in this situation just because she wanted, as if it would be as simple as picking up a sword and she could go anywhere she wanted.

 

Men hardly ever understood.

 

“This is not fair!” She heard Katia protesting.

 

Sansa hurried down the stairs, only to find Mercia looking down at Katia. “It is what the King wishes, therefore, it shall happen.” He informed her.

 

“What happened?” Sansa asked, standing by Katia.

 

“My father wants us back in Camelot!” Katia cried, grabbing Sansa’s arm. “He heard about some commotion in Londinium and now he wants me to go back. This is not fair!” She insisted. “I was not there.”

 

“But Lady Sansa and Lady Maggie were.” Mercia turned his eyes to Sansa, and she felt the accusation on them. “Now, we cannot allow them to be in danger, can we?”

 

Sansa cleared her throat. “Lord Mercia, this is hardly necessary. Maybe we can stay a few more days, no more visits to…”

  
“The King was clear.” He cut her, without any respect. “You are going back to Londinium now.”

 

Katia’s eyes welled in tears, then she stormed off to the bedroom she had been given.

 

Sansa turned to follow her, when Mercia’s voice stopped her. “Make sure she packs fast, Lady Sansa.”

 

Sansa had to control her expression as she nodded at him and followed Katia back to her room.

 

It was quite curious that, despite being older than Katia, Sansa was more mature. Katia very often behaved somewhat like a spoiled child, like she’d just done. Of course, Sansa understood she was upset -she hardly left Camelot and this trip was already short as it was -but she was old enough to know that tantrums just looked bad for her.

 

She consoled Katia for a few minutes, letting her cry and say how it wasn’t fair, then told her she would send someone to help her pack. Sansa left to her own chambers to start her own packing, when Maggie came in and closed the door after herself.

 

“Lady Maggie…” Sansa started carefully.

 

“I do not have much time.” Maggie said urgently. “I rather say this here, because I am not so sure if I can say it in Camelot without someone hearing and reporting back to the King. Here I feel a bit safer.”

 

That shut Sansa up.

 

“You were right.” Maggie admitted in a rush. “I took you to Londinium so you could meet Arthur. I swear that it was never my intention that you would get lost or scared; the riot we saw was not part of the plan. I am sorry for that.”

 

“Why are you telling me this now?” Sansa wanted to know.

 

“They think Vortigern plans on sacrificing you.” Maggie told her directly.

 

“What?” Sansa was incredulous.

 

“Arthur asked for a lock of your hair, the Mage tested it. She believes he wants to sacrifice you for your bloodline.”

 

“This is preposterous!” Sansa snapped. “Sacrifice me? What type of person would…”

  
“You have heard the whispers.” Maggie spoke firmly. “You know about the Tower and Vortigern’s desperation to finish it. You cannot say you think it is all madness.”

 

Sansa took a deep breath. “But why me?”

 

“Because of your lineage. I do not know the details.” Maggie admitted. “But they are sure this is what he wants.”

 

“So I have to believe in your word?” Sansa hissed at her.

 

“I know it is difficult, and you have no reason to believe me, Sansa, but I am being honest. If I wanted I could have said nothing. And I am taking a great risk now, telling you that I have contacts amongst the rebels. You could go straight to Vortigern and tell him all of this.”

 

Why those things kept happening to her? She did not want to be involved in this…

 

But then again… That was exactly what that prick had told her, wasn’t it? She couldn’t remain happily neutral, pretending there wasn’t a revolution happening out there, and that it could go either way at any given moment.

 

She would have to choose a side.

  
“I have to pack, Lady Maggie. You should go.”

 

Maggie still opened her mouth, like she intended to say more, but then she just nodded at Sansa and left.

 

XxX

 

This time they couldn’t watch the party moving. Mercia had come to pick the princess up and carry her back to Camelot, and he’d brought guards along.

 

Besides, they didn’t really need to watch the whole parade, they knew where the princess was going, who she was with, and that Vortigern wasn’t anywhere near them.

 

“You’re quiet.” Back Lack commented from his place beside Arthur.

 

“Just thinking.” Arthur commented in a lower, tired voice.

 

“I know what you’re thinking about.” The other man snorted.

 

Arthur sighed. “Don’t start, Back Lack. You have no idea…”

 

“You got hooked by those pretty eyes, there’s nothing wrong with that. I know you better than anyone, I’m not blind.” Back Lack indicated as he got up. He put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Just remember: she belongs to him. Don’t do anything stupid.” He recommended, squeezing Arthur’s shoulder before leaving the man alone.

 

Arthur wouldn’t even ask why Back Lack had come to the conclusion that he had some type of interest in Lady Sansa. He was right, he knew Arthur better than anyone.

 

But on one thing he was wrong.

 

“She belongs to no one.”

 

XxX

 

Sansa was spiraling; she was panicking. What if they were right? What if Vortigern was really intending to sacrifice her?

 

By all the Gods, how was this her life? Would she ever get just a bit of peace? How come she was always falling into the hands of crazy Kings that wanted to use her?

 

And what if Maggie was lying to her? How could she trust the other woman?

 

Why this all so complicated?

 

Maybe she’d grown less than she thought. Perhaps she still was that stupid little girl, the one that knew nothing and trusted all the wrong people.

 

“My Lady.” A servant knocked on her door. “The King wishes to see you.”

 

Sansa nodded to the man and got up. What could Vortigern want with her? They had occasional conversations from time to time, but she’d barely arrived back at Camelot.

 

She checked her appearance on the mirror than made her way to the King’s solar. Vortigern was there alone, sitting behind his massive desk.

 

“My King.” Sansa curtsied prettily.

 

“Lady Sansa, come closer.” He told her softly.

 

Sansa started to feel distinctively like prey; his eyes were fixed on her, cool and calculating. Vortigern was a good-looking man, but the more time she spent with him, the more he made her nervous in a way that was different from other men. Even when Sansa briefly thought he planned on marrying her, she’d never thought he actually _wanted_ her; she was certain Vortigern didn’t see her like a woman at all. Sometimes, when he looked at her, Sansa felt a visceral fear.

 

She felt like prey.

 

Sacrifice.

 

Oh no! It was not the time to let those words -those absurd words -wreak havoc in her mind.

 

She walked up to his desk, unsure if she looked as nervous as she felt.

 

“I have talked to Lady Maggie.” Vortigern said when she was close enough. “About what happened in Londinium.”

 

“It was an unfortunate event.” Sansa spoke carefully.

 

“I am not happy about it.” He informed her. “You are my guest, I cannot have you in dangerous situations.”

 

“It was not something we could have predict, Your Majesty…”

 

“You are right.” He gave in too easily. “An even better reason to not leave the keep at all.”

 

She knew she was in a delicate situation now. “Of course, Your Majesty.” She conceded. “I truly apologize for any problem I may have brought. I do not wish to be ungrateful after everything you have done for me.” She lowered her head, eyes on the ground.

 

The silence stretched for a whole minute, until the King decided to break it. “I worry about you, Lady Sansa. I am just trying to keep you safe.”

 

“I know, My King.” She replied quietly.

 

“There is someone out there, trying to destroy me; the so called born-king. I cannot have you or Katia out there, where he can do something to both of you.”

  
“Yes, Your Majesty.”

 

She risked a look in his direction. He was looking intensely at her. “Have you ever seen him?”

 

She didn’t need to ask who he was talking about. “No, My King. I haven’t seen anyone.”

 

His mouth curled up on the right corner. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Sansa?”

 

“No, My King.”

 

He hummed under his breath. “Go rest. You had a long trip and I would like to see you for supper.”

 

“Yes, My King.” She curtsied.

 

She started leaving, then stopped. She shouldn’t… It was a bad idea, but…

 

“My King?” She turned back.

 

He had been watching her leaving. “Yes?”

 

“I know it is not my place to ask anything of you, considering how generous you have been all this time, but…” She bit her lower lip. “Well… I have always wished to marry and have my own family; and now I am older… I was wondering… Would you consider finding me a match?”

 

The room became so silent so suddenly that Sansa feared he could hear her heart beating inside her chest.

 

“Why are you asking this now, Lady Sansa?” He finally asked.

 

“I know it is not something to be decided lightly, and it might take you some time to consider it.” She replied carefully. “So I decided to ask you now, Your Majesty.”

 

Vortigern wasn’t blinking. “I do not know if I want to part from you so soon, Lady Sansa.” He finally replied. “You are a great company for my daughter and I have no plans of marrying her yet. Do you have someone you wish to marry?” The last part wasn’t so much a question, as it was demand for the truth.

 

“Not at this time, My King.” She answered. “I just wish…”

 

“You are still young.” He cut her. “I do not wish to see you married so soon. This conversation is done.”

 

“Yes, My King. I am sorry for bothering you.”

 

As Sansa hurried away from him she started questioning everything she thought she knew. Was this really a simple question of Vortigern not wanting to marry her now, or was there something else behind it?

 

Why was she suddenly starting to believe in a man she’d seen twice before?

 

And if he was right… What could she possibly do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for this chapter I took in consideration something I saw on the internet and I'm almost sure it's actually official. Supposedly, G.R.R. Martin said that all the Stark children had the hability to warg, but Sansa lost Lady before she could discover this. The Starks descent from the First Men, so I'm basically using all of that as justification for Sansa's magic blood. As the Mage said, she isn't a sorceress and she isn't going to become one, it's just a heritage she has.
> 
> BTW I have just finished this and immediately posted it, so I can only imagine the mistakes there... Let me know if something is too terrible.
> 
> Let me know your feelings!
> 
> Cheers


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, my good people!
> 
> I’m truly sorry for all the delay, but here I am again!
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos and the lovely comments! You guys make writing this much more fun.
> 
> I have just finished this, and it hasn’t been beta-read. I’m almost sleeping on top of my keyboard, so there are probably a lot of mistakes. Let me know if you see anything too terrible and/or in desperate need of correcting.
> 
> Let’s see what happens next?

The Mage knew Arthur was coming. Not because she heard it in the wind, or because the spirits told her; she knew it because his steps were loud, like a horse’s.

 

“You don’t want to kill the girl.” She spoke before he could open his mouth.

 

“Not if I can prevent it.” He admitted.

 

The Mage turned to look directly at him. “Because you care about her?” She challenged.

 

Arthur scoffed. “I don’t even know her.”

 

“That is not an answer.” The Mage indicated.

  
“I would prefer if we didn’t have to sacrifice people.” He finally spoke. “If one of us decide to go down, sword raised, screaming at the Heavens, it’s their business. I won’t kill someone just because she’s in the wrong place, with the wrong person.”

 

She arched a brow. “And you think you are the right person for her to be with?”

  
“Well, I am not planning on killing her, am I?” He threw back dryly.

 

“I thought we were just discussing that.” The Mage offered candidly.

 

“Can you not…” He groaned. “Will you help or not?”

 

“We can’t invade the castle to take her. We barely got you out alive the last time.” She reminded him.

 

“We can’t get in.” He agreed. “It doesn’t mean she can’t get out.”

 

The Mage seemed interested. “What are you thinking about?”

 

“How obedient are your furry friends?”

 

XxX

 

Sansa’s nerves were frayed. Between Arthur’s and Maggie’s warnings she didn’t know what to think anymore. She’d started questioning everything she thought she knew, and all the conversations she’d ever had with Vortigern.

 

Now, every time she was on his presence, she felt a visceral fear. It was nothing like she felt when Joffrey called her to the Throne Room. As much as Joffrey loved to act as this all-powerful king, he was nothing but a child playing pretend. Of course, the idea of being beaten and humiliated in front of a laughing crowd always made her fearful; she had to be constantly prepared for whatever way Joffrey would create to bring her down. Joffrey was a small boy with cruel ways, and he made her life a living hell.

 

But Vortigern was no boy.

 

He wasn’t playing at anything; he’d been controlling England with an iron fist for a long time now. Vortigern was a man of great power. Joffrey was nothing next to him.

 

Joffrey had scared Sansa, he’d made her live in fear for a long time, but it was nothing compared to the deep sense of dread she was feeling anytime she came next to Vortigern now.

 

_Prey._

 

That was what the voice in her head kept saying.

 

Sansa didn’t know what to do. She had nowhere to go, everyone in England was too scared of Vortigern to give her any protection. At least in Westeros she’d been the heiress of a powerful House; someone might have helped her. Here…

 

She didn’t dare counting with the Impostor’s help. And no, she was not calling that… That man by his name. How dare he? Who he thought he was to invade her room and talk to her as if he knew all about her? How dare he invade her thoughts like he had with threats?

 

Sansa sunk in the tub, uncaring of how hot the water was.

 

“Would you like me to wash your hair, Lady Sansa?” Ruth asked.

 

Sansa sighed. “Please do.”

 

Ruth was much quieter than Jane; the other girl talked and talked, but Ruth was a bit older, and knew when to keep her silence. Lately she’d noticed that Sansa was different; she was quieter, just like she’d been when she’d arrived at Camelot.

 

“My Lady…” Ruth called softly. “I’m done with your hair. Would you like me to help you wash?”

 

Sansa was quiet for so long, that Ruth thought she’d fallen asleep; but then she opened her eyes and sighed once again.

 

“It’s not necessary, Ruth. I’ll finish alone. You can have the rest of the night for yourself.” She said.

 

“My Lady… I…”

 

“It is alright, Ruth.” Sansa insisted. “I’ll be fine alone.”

 

Ruth wanted to say something, but it wasn’t her place to question a lady. “Good night, my lady.” She curtsied and left.

 

Sansa waited until she heard the sound of the door closing, then she let her shoulders sag. She was always alert recently, and it was taking its toll on her. She didn’t feel like she could trust anyone, and it made her miss Shae terribly.

 

Normally, the Stark avoided thinking about Westeros at all; there was only pain left there. But sometimes… Sometimes she wondered. Was Arya truly gone? How about Jon? Had the Hound found some peace to himself? Where was Shae? Had Joffrey destroyed the land? Was Margaery the Queen now?

 

Vortigern claimed they had no news of Westeros, but if she insisted, he could dispatch a ship just to get her some information. Of course, the offer was always made in a polite way, but the way it was worded, it made it sound like it’d be terribly difficult, and she’d be a spoiled child if she pushed it. Sansa always declined, and then just stopped asking.

 

But sometimes she wondered…

 

Could she cross the sea and just go back to Westeros? Would it be better? At least nobody was trying to sacrifice her there. How the tables had turned…

 

Sansa pulled her legs closer and hugged them against her chest. “It’s not my fight.” She whispered to herself.

 

Something was shimmering under the water and it caught her eyes. Hands came out of the it and grabbed her arms; Sansa didn’t have the chance to scream before she was pulled under the water.

 

Sansa thought she was hallucinating; as soon as she went under, she wasn’t in a tub anymore, she was in what looked like a deep dark lake, looking in the face of a woman dressed as a lady. She tried to scream and fight, but it was useless.

 

Then she heard the voice.

 

_“Sansa Stark. This is not your land, but this is your fight. You are here for a reason.”_

 

Suddenly she saw herself in the middle of Londinium, but the city was in flames, destroyed. There were bodies everywhere.

 

 _“When he gets the power in your blood, this is what he will do.”_ The woman told her. _“And soon, he will move to Westeros.”_

 

She was back in the water, looking at the woman.

 

_“Go to the Born King. Fight alongside him. Porcelain, to ivory, to steel, Sansa Stark. You are a wolf, not prey.”_

 

Sansa pulled her head out of the water, gasping desperately.

 

What had just happened to her?

 

There was a ribbon floating on the water, just like the one the woman had worn. Sansa grabbed it and pressed it against her mouth.

 

“The New and the Old Gods help me…”

 

XxX

 

The Mage organized her things meticulously; magic was no child’s play. Everything had to be done with extreme care, if they wanted the proper results.

 

She knew Arthur hadn’t told anyone else about this. He’d asked for her help, and her help alone. She was only doing it because it wouldn’t risk them, and she wanted Sansa Stark there as well. It was better to have her near.

 

Once everything was set, she turned to Arthur. “Are you certain about what you’re asking me?”

 

Arthur wasn’t sure about anything at this point. He didn’t know what he was doing, not like he used to pretend he did. But now wasn’t the time to worry about that. Right now, he only knew one thing.

 

“Bring her to me.” He ordered.

 

The Mage closed her eyes and started to chant.

 

XxX

 

It was the insistent tapping that woke her up.

 

Sansa was confused at first. When she opened her eyes, the room was still dark, so it was probably the middle of the night; only the fire in the fireplace lit the room a bit.

 

She looked around, trying to find the source of the noise, her eyes still adjusting to the lack of proper light. That was when she saw the raven on the windowsill.

 

“Oh my…” She gasped, clutching her blankets.

 

The bird was big, and it seemed as it’d been pecking the stone of the window to call her attention, and now that it had it, it was looking directly at her, with its black eyes.

 

It was a chilling sight, and Sansa wondered if it was a nightmare.

 

“Sansa.” The bird croaked, making her jump.

 

It had to be a dream. How would it know her name? She knew that ravens sometimes could learn some words if they were around humans for too long, but where would it have learned her name?

 

“Sansa.” It repeated, opening its wings. “Leave.”

 

Oh no. This was too odd, pure madness. She was sleeping, this was a nightmare.

 

“Sansa.” The bird insisted. “Leave.” It flapped its wings again, then flew the short distance to her door, pacing in front of it. “Leave.”

 

Sansa had seen things she couldn’t explain at Camelot, but this… This was something else.

 

“Leave.” The bird continued its pacing, getting more agitated the longer she took to act.

 

Not knowing exactly what she was doing, Sansa got up, grabbed a candle and lit it. Her feet touched the cold floor, making her think this couldn’t possibly be a dream, because she felt the chill all the way up her spine.

 

She approached the door, and the raven gave her space. Still thinking herself a fool -or at least truly mad -Sansa pulled it open.

 

Only to find a mouse sitting just outside, like it had been waiting for her.

 

Sansa gasped in shock at the sight of the animal, but managed to not scream. A fortunate thing, or she might have brought guards there.

 

For a moment she stood there, with a raven and a mouse looking at her face, like they were waiting for her to do something.

 

“Leave.” The raven spoke again.

 

She needed to know how far this insanity went.

 

Sansa hurried back to the side of her bed and put her slippers on, and grabbed a warm coat, since the corridors of the castle were cold this time of the night.

 

Once she got back to the door, the mouse started down the corridor, then stopped to see if she was following it. Sansa couldn’t believe she was about to do exactly that.

 

When she finally stepped out in the corridor, the raven flew to the window, then out to the night, and Sansa was left to go after the mouse alone.

 

She closed her door, and started to do so.

 

Why was she following the mouse?

 

Maybe because she still wasn’t sure she was awake. Maybe because she was still unsettled by the vision she had. There was this thing inside her, telling that she should go, that she should follow the little creature.

 

It guided her down the corridors, and Sansa had to hide behind columns and tapestries to avoid being seen, but it seemed as the mouse always knew, and stopped and waited for her.

 

It started leading her down a dark path, where she noticed she wasn’t exactly in the castle anymore. This was some kind of underground cave, beneath the castle, where the walls were made of actual carved stone.

 

Sansa felt like she’d been walking forever when the mouse took a narrow corridor. There was no more natural light coming from anywhere, and she could only hear the sound of water dripping somewhere and the mouse scuttling ahead of her.

 

After a few meters, it found a passage in the wall and it took it. Sansa hesitated; she could see it would be a tight fit; she’d be able to pass, but it wouldn’t be comfortable.

 

And why would she even try? She was following a mouse, for Seven’s sake! Had she lost her mind?

 

When she didn’t immediately follow, the mouse stopped, then came back, looking at her from the ground, like it was asking “what is your problem now?”.

 

Sansa kept following it.

 

It was a tight fit. In some places she had to lower her head or twist her body to pass. It clearly hadn’t been a passage made for people. Perhaps it was just a natural tunnel, something nature had put there way before men claimed the spot.

 

She felt like it was difficult to breathe, because it was so confined; she wasn’t sure the candle was helping or hindering her -her clothes certainly were giving her trouble -when she finally saw the natural light of the moon entering from somewhere ahead.

 

She pressed forward, leaving the candle behind in her hurry to finally breathe again. She could see the exit and once she crossed it…

 

She was outside.

 

Sansa could see the moon, she was at the foot of the cliff over which Camelot was built. She wasn’t in the castle anymore and nobody had seen her.

 

She was… Free.

 

“Sansa.”

 

It was the raven again, calling her name, and it had a new friend. A horse, on whose head the raven was perched.

 

“I suppose now you want me to ride the horse.” Sansa spoke to the raven, feeling extremely silly for doing so.

 

“Leave.” The raven replied.

  
“I know.” She sighed, then looked at the mouse, who was still by her feet, like it was waiting for her to go on. “Will you come too?” She decided to ask, because -at this point -why not?

 

She lowered herself and offered her open hand for the mouse to climb on. It did, and she carried it carefully, as she went to the horse.

 

It didn’t have a saddle, only the reins. Sansa wasn’t good at horse-riding even with a saddle, she could hardly imagine how she was going to do it without one. She didn’t even know how she would get on it.

 

“I need help.” She told the horse, even though she didn’t expect an answer.

 

The raven flew away once again, and the horse lowered itself to the ground, laying down for her.

 

“Thank you.” Sansa whispered, then mounted the horse, mindful of the mouse still on her hand.

 

She grabbed the reins and the horse got up, then started moving without any encouragement from her. Sansa still couldn’t believe this was happening and that it would be this simple.

 

As the horse moved, she looked over her shoulder, seeing the intimidating wall of stone, tilting her head up until she could see the shadow of the castle looming over her.

 

Camelot was getting farther and farther away.

 

She expected to hear an alarm at any moment, guards to come looking for her; but nothing happened. They kept moving alongside the river, putting more and more distance between themselves and the castle.

 

For a moment, Sansa felt sad. Who would keep Katia company now?

 

XxX

 

The horse didn’t require any direction from her. It knew where it was going, and just kept moving in that direction at a regular pace; not too fast, but not too slow either. Sansa trusted it to take her where she was supposed to be going, even though she didn’t know where it was or what she should do once she got there.

 

It was colder than she’d expected, and she was shivering even under her coat; probably because she was only wearing her nightgown beneath it. She was also extremely tired but was trying to stay awake.

 

They must have ridden for hours, because the sky was a little grey, like it got just before the sunrise. They’d entered a forest a while back, but now she was almost sure the horse was slowing down. Maybe it was tired.

 

They turned on a bend on the rustic trail, when she finally saw people. There two people there, and one of them had a face she knew quite well.

 

“Good morning, Lady Stark.” The so-called Born King waved at her. “We’ve been waiting all night long. What took you so long?”

 

She should have expected that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... A few things about this chapter.
> 
> I thought long and hard about how I was going to get Sansa out of Camelot. I had an original plan that involved Arthur going in and all, but if he was going there, he might as well face Vortigern at once, right? So I had to scrap this idea, because he's not ready to face his uncle and I want Arthur and Sansa together, flirting, being awesome and all of that. So I needed to get her out and that was the plan I came up with.
> 
> I decided to throw the Lady of the Lake there for a few reasons: one, to make Sansa more inclined to the idea of magical things happening (she did have to follow a mouse to get out of the castle); and two, because I wanted her to hear from someone else she was necessary here. I’m admitting it was a plot device, but I don’t think it turned out too bad… At least, I hope so.
> 
> I used the idea that the Mage could control animals like she did in different moments of the actual movie, with the dogs and the eagle during Arthur’s escape, and later on with the eagle and snake when they attack the castle. I also heard that ravens can learn a few words, if they live around humans for too long. Since this is kind of magic raven, he can say Sansa’s name as well. I mean, why not? Hahaha
> 
> Be nice to mice, sometimes they can lead you out of terrible places. I’m not sure if it is okay to mount horses that are laying down, I just saw it was possible. I checked a few videos to be sure, but my understanding of horses isn’t that great. So, technically possible, but I’m not sure it’s recommended.
> 
> Anyway… That was long… hahaha Let me know your feelings!
> 
> Next chapter: Arthur is his natural charming self, Sansa is not impressed, and Vortigern goes ballistic!
> 
> Cheers


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kind comments and kudos!
> 
> I'm not extremely happy with this chapter, I haven't even re-read it myself.
> 
> I do hope you guys get to enjoy it, tho.

**Chapter 7**

 

“Not you.” She cried. “I knew this seemed too perfect.”

 

Arthur snorted. “What? Not happy to see me, princess?”

 

Sansa grabbed the reins. “Please, take me back.” She whispered to the horse.

 

“Sorry, but he won’t listen to you.” Arthur informed her, his voice pleasant. “He’s my friend’s friend, you see?”

 

Sansa finally allowed herself to look at the other person there; it was a woman with very pale complexion and long black hair. “Welcome, Sansa Stark.”

 

Sansa nodded at her, a true lady. “Thank you. And you are?”

 

“The Mage.” It was the short answer.

 

“Did you teach the raven how to say my name?” Sansa asked. “It was a bit unsettling to hear it.”

 

“In a way, yes, I taught it.” The woman said, then became quiet again. Obviously, she didn’t think there was anything else to add.

 

“Come down, princess.” Arthur waved his hand at her. “We got you another horse so you can finish this trip.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” She told him haughtily.

 

He huffed. “Are we back to this?”

 

“I can’t remember a moment we left this.” She informed him dryly.

 

He narrowed his eyes at her. “By all means, go back.” He indicated the direction she’d just come from. “Should I send you already tied to a stake, to save the King some time?”

 

They glared at each other for a full minute, before the Mage got up and started gathering her things. “I need rest.” She declared, completely ignoring the tension.

 

Arthur sighed. “Come, princess. You look like you’re cold.” He extended his arms again to pick her up.

 

Sansa bit her lower lip. “Why do I need another horse? What’s wrong with this one?” She wanted to know.

 

“He carried you a long way without rest or a saddle.” Arthur informed her. “Give him some time.”

 

“Of course.” Sansa agreed, before finally allowing Arthur to put his hands on her waist.

 

“What do you have in your hand?” He asked, not moving.

 

“The mouse that helped me.” She showed the small animal to him.

 

Arthur stared at the mouse for a second, then let out a breath. “I’m still trying to understand you, princess.” He confessed with a chuckle.

 

“Finally something we have in common.” She murmured.

 

He put his hands around her waist and helped her dismount. Sansa’s legs almost gave up once she touched the ground, but Arthur was there to help her.

 

She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

 

“I’ll take him.” The Mage said, getting the mouse.

 

Arthur guided Sansa to another horse. “Here.” He offered her another cloak.

 

She put it around her shoulders quietly, then let him help her up in another horse. She wasn’t expecting him to mount behind her, but she shouldn’t be surprised at this point.

 

He put his arms around her and grabbed the reins. “Now, don’t go getting any ideas, sweetheart.” He drawled by her ear.

 

Sansa gave him her most unimpressed look. “I’ll try my best.”

 

XxX

 

Ruth was a concerned about Lady Sansa. The girl was normally quiet and proper, but since she came back from her short trip she’d been even quieter; it was as if she was lost in a world inside her head. She also seemed quiet scared, like she’d been all those years back, when she’d first arrived at Camelot.

 

Was it because of what had happened in Londinium? For a noble lady like her, seeing something like a riot must have been quite frightening.

 

Maybe today they could take a turn around the keep and embroider a little. That always seemed to make Lady Sansa happier.

 

Ruth entered the room in silence, like she did every morning. She’d choose a dress for Lady Sansa to wear today, then she’d wake her up.

 

However, as soon as she entered the room she noticed something: Lady Sansa wasn’t sleeping in her bed. Ruth had a minute of panic, but everything would be fine. Where could Lady Sansa have gone? Maybe she was just relieving herself.

 

The room was quiet, and then Ruth noticed something: she couldn’t see Sansa’s cloak or her shoes.

 

“Lady Sansa?” Ruth called.

 

No answer.

 

She put her hand on the bed and the spot was cold, meaning the girl hadn’t been in bed for hours.

 

Ruth panicked. If something had happened to the lady…

 

She hurried out of the room to find a guard.

 

XxX

 

“Wake up, princess.”

 

“Not a princess.” She mumbled, her eyes still mostly closed.

 

She heard a chuckle “Good to know that even in sleep you can disagree with me.”

 

Sansa opened her eyes. She didn’t know how long they’d been riding, but they’d finally stopped at the entrance of a cave.

 

Arthur quickly dismounted and helped her to do the same. “We’ll get you inside and get you some food and better clothes.”

 

“Thank you.” She sighed, exhausted.

 

Two men came from the cave to greet them, followed by three women.

 

“Bedivere, Goosefat; let me introduce you to Lady Sansa Stark, from Westeros.” Arthur said with an exaggerated bow.

 

Bedivere and Goosefat were clearly not amused, but perhaps used to it. Once Sansa turned to them, she was shocked at how much this Goosefat looked like someone she knew.

 

“My Lady.” They both bowed to her.

 

“My Lords.” She curtsied back.

 

“Kay.” Arthur called one of the women. “Can you please take care of our princess? Find her some silky dress or whatever is that she wears?”

 

Kay huffed at Arthur, like a disapproving older sister. “Honestly, I thought princes were supposed to be charming.” She turned to Sansa and gave the girl a smile. “Come, lass, you probably need a break from him.”

 

“Yes, please.” Sansa went with the women, and didn’t look back.

 

She had a feeling she’d see a lot of him now. It was better to save her energy for the next time he annoyed her.

 

XxX

 

“We’ve searched the whole keep, but we don’t know how long she’s been gone. They couldn’t have possibly breached our defenses without sounding at least one alarm.”

 

“Mercia.”

 

“She doesn’t know the land, she can’t have gone far. We have men with horses and dogs searching for her.”

 

“Mercia.”

 

“We will find her, Sire, it’s just a matter of...”

 

“MERCIA!” Vortigern slammed his hand on the table in front of him. “Find the girl. I need her. And throw her maids into the cells. I have no time for incompetent people.”

 

Mercia looked alarmed by the outburst, but just nodded, before bowing to his King and leaving.

 

“Father!” Katya bursted into the room, tears on her eyes. “Is it true that Sansa was taken?”

 

Vortigern took a deep breath, then hugged his daughter. “The rebels took her somehow.” He told her. “But don’t worry, I’ll get her back.”

 

“Will they hurt her?” She asked in panic.

 

“I would like to believe they won’t, but these people are savages. I fear for her.”

 

XxX

 

Ada put a shawl on Sansa shoulders as Sigrid passed her a bowl of hot stew. “Thank you.” The girl said politely.

 

“You’re welcome, darling.” Ada sat beside her. “Are you feeling better now?”

 

Sansa nodded, since her mouth was full.

 

“Have they hurt you?” Sigrid asked.

 

“No. They all treated me as a guest.” She shrugged. “Nothing ever happened at Camelot.”

 

“Did the King touch you?” Kay pressed.

 

“No. I don’t think he sees me that way.”

 

“You’re pretty and men are men.” Ada pointed out.

 

“The King is focused, obsessed.” Sansa replied. “The fact that I am pretty isn’t relevant to his plans.”

 

“But do you know what his plans are?” Sarah prodded.

 

Sansa sighed. “I have no idea.” She looked at the women around her.  “How did you get mixed with his highness?”

 

Kay chuckled. “Some of us actually raised him. Some of the others came to live in the house in time.”

 

Sansa remembered someone saying the Born King had been raised in a brothel. “Oh. So you’re all...”

 

“Whores?” Sarah threw, an arched brow.

 

Sansa cleared her throat. “I was going to say prostitutes.”

 

Ada snickered. “You don’t seem all that shocked.”

 

“My handmaid, Shae, had been one as well. I don’t think I was supposed to know that, but I heard some ladies whispering about it, and how even a whore was more than I deserved.” She looked at Ada and shrugged again. “They said it as if she was less than the rest for it, but Shae was the only kind person to me in King’s Landing. To me, she was far better than most of those nobles.”

 

Kay, sitting on her other side, put a hand on Sansa’ shoulder. “That’s the place where they hurt you?”

 

Sansa just nodded.

 

“Don’t worry, love.” Sigrid gave the younger girl a smaller smile. “You’re safe here. The biggest danger you face now is Arthur’s ego.”

 

That surprised a chuckle out of Sansa.

 

As if called by the mere mention of his name, Arthur entered the kitchen, with the two men from before besides a few other people.

 

“Can we talk now, Princess?”

 

Sansa glared at him. “Would you stop?”

 

Bedivere gave Arthur a look, clearly telling him to act in a more befitting manner.

 

“My Lady.” Bedivere lowered himself on the bench across from Sansa. “We’re honored to have you here.”

 

“And you also expect me to give you information about the King.” She finished for him.

 

Bedivere was caught by surprise but merely nodded.

  
“I don’t know what you expect from me.” She sighed. “I was just a guest under his roof. He wouldn’t talk business in front of me or even Katia. I only know he’s obsessed with his Tower.”

 

“And you? Was he obsessed with you?”

 

Sansa couldn’t help but stare at this man, the one Arthur had introduced as Goosefat. “I’m sorry, but you look a lot like someone I know. Do you have family in Westeros?”

 

The man frowned at the question. “Not that I know.”

 

Sansa shook her head. “I’m sorry.” She apologized again. “What was the question again?”

 

“How was your relationship with the King.” Goosefat repeated.

 

“It’s not as complicated as it seems. He made me a lady in waiting for his daughter, but he liked to remind me that I was living there because of his generosity. He was never cruel to me, but he never paid much attention as well. In the first year, he’d ask me about Westeros, but once he figured I didn’t know much more, he stopped asking.”

 

“And he never…”

 

Sansa cut Bedivere with a look. “I don’t know why you’re all so worried about this, but no; he never touched me. He never gave me the slightest indication that he wished to. The guards were supposed to stay away from me as well.”

 

“So he was saving you for a sacrifice.” Arthur commented.

 

Sansa sighed. “I can’t say. I did ask him if he could find me a match, after Lady Maggie told me about your suspicions.”

 

“How did he react?” Bedivere asked, clearly curious.

 

“He wasn’t happy, at all. Said he didn’t want to part from me so soon, then asked if there was someone I wished to marry.”

  
“I bet that, if you’d offered a name, there’d be a dead young man now.” Goosefat observed.

 

“I thought as much.” Sansa nodded. “I don’t know what to think. You’re telling me tales of magic; I’ve never thought that was real.”

 

“It’s real enough, princess.” Arthur spoke up.

 

Sansa let out a long-suffering sigh. “Will I really have to put up with you constantly from now on?”

 

“For your delight… Yes.”

 

Sansa refused to comment on this.

 

“I feel like we are connecting here, Princess.”

 

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Only in your dreams. I’m only here because you’re -supposedly -the lesser of two evils.”

 

“Hold the flirting, sweetheart.” He smirked at her. “Or I just might fall in love.”

 

She gave him a flat look. “I think you’ll manage to avoid that.”

 

The grin he gave her was pure danger. “Don’t be so sure.”

 

XxX

 

Bedivere sat beside Bill and offered the other man a cup. “What are you thinking about?”

 

“The girl.” Bill admitted, taking the cup.

 

“How so?”

 

“Arthur.” It was a simplistic answer, but it was explanation enough.

 

“Do you think he’s seriously interested on her?”  Bedivere asked.

 

“He got her out of the castle, and he never told us he planned on doing it.” Bill pointed out.

 

“Maybe it is just his bleeding heart.” Bedivere shrugged. “Once he heard she’d be sacrificed, he couldn’t help it.”

 

“I don’t think is this. I believe he’s really interested in this girl, and that concerns me.” Bill explained. “I have nothing against Lady Sansa, and I don’t think she’s on Vortigern’s side, but she is a distraction. One that we can’t afford.”

 

Bedivere gave Bill a look. “I know the boy comes across as irresponsible, but I don’t see him as that reckless. He’s been fighting on our side this whole time, he’s embraced his legacy. He might not be what we had hoped for at first, but Arthur has come a long way. I know he will fight because it is the right thing to do, and he will be a King that would make his father proud.”

 

“You understood me wrong, Bedivere. I don’t doubt the boy.” Bill said. “He’s a little shite, but I agree; he’s come a long way. But we’ve been young and foolish, and we know how things feel at the time, like they are meant to last an eternity. This is not the moment for that kind of idea.”

 

“It’s just flirting, Bill. It means nothing.”

 

“Either way… I think we should consider helping Lady Sansa to go back to her land.”

 

Bedivere arched a brow. “You’re suggesting we stuff her in a boat and send her home?”

 

Bill scoffed. “No. I’m suggesting we send someone over to find anyone that might claim her as family. Who knows? We might be doing the girl a favor.”

 

Bedivere considered the idea for a moment. “I think you might be right. But, even if we do that, it’d be months before we get any kind of answer.” He pointed out.

 

“This war isn’t ending anytime soon.” Bill spoke.

 

“I don’t know about this.” Bedivere sighed.

 

Bill rolled his eyes. “If we ask the girl, would it be better?”

 

“Yes, it would.”

 

“Great. Let us find if Lady Stark wishes to return home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your feelings?


End file.
